The Portrait Page 9

  I thought about what I had just heard. “Surely you don’t feel the family disapproves of you still?”

  Margaret raised her perfectly arched eyebrows. “Aunt Augusta is Robert’s godmother and she has never forgot that he married ‘beneath himself.’ And she never lets me forget that I am not worthy of the House of Camden.”

  I hadn’t noticed any disapproval of Margaret from Aunt Augusta, but perhaps that was because she now had another focus for her displeasure. “She criticizes everything I say and do,” I said gloomily.

  “She has no idea how much I contribute to this household,” Margaret said passionately. “I am the one who keeps all the household accounts. Robert cannot be burdened with ordering food for the table, or candles for the family and the servants, or hiring maids or new kitchen workers. He doesn’t purchase new uniforms for the servants when they are needed. He doesn’t meet regularly with the cook, the housekeeper and the butler. I earn my keep!”

  Her beautiful skin was flushed. and her eyes were blazing green fire. I had the brief thought that I wouldn’t want to get in Margaret’s line of fire when she was in this mood.

  I said, “Leo never treats you as a poor relation.”

  “Of course not. Leo is always perfect. I can have no complaint to make about Leo.”

  There was the slightest trace of acid in her voice. I deduced that Aunt Augusta wasn’t the only one who had no idea about the amount of work Margaret did to keep the house running.

  I said, “I’m so sorry, Margaret. I can understand why you might feel bitter about my arrival. Leo introduces me—a perfect stranger—into your midst and Aunt Augusta is thrilled to see me. My mother comes and is thrilled to see me. It isn’t fair.”

  Margaret didn’t answer but began to eat her breakfast. I felt I had said all I could say so I also began to eat. When I had finished my second muffin and was about to stand up, she said, “I’m sorry if I have been unfriendly to you, Isabel. My situation is not your fault.”

  I said conversationally, “If Aunt Augusta had lived in France she would have had her head cut off.”

  Margaret exploded into laughter. When she had composed herself again she said, “An opportunity missed.”

  We grinned at each other and I left the room.

  *

  Leo was home by teatime. This is an English custom where family and guests gather in the drawing room during late afternoon to drink tea. I was learning to like tea (although I will always prefer coffee) but the cakes and scones were wonderful. Someone in Leo’s kitchen knew how to bake—probably a Frenchman. All of the family was present except for Roger and Margaret.

  Aunt Augusta sat on a sofa behind the massive silver tea service, the chatelaine of the house dispensing comfort to the rest of us. I thought for the first time, Shouldn’t Margaret be doing this?

  I glanced toward Robert, who was sitting next to Susan on an elegant gold brocade sofa. He was saying something that made her laugh. He had made an excuse for Margaret today, and I suddenly realized that Margaret rarely came to tea; she was always ‘engaged elsewhere.’ I remembered our conversation of the morning and realized she might find it difficult to watch Aunt Augusta reigning in a place that should be hers. If anyone was the ‘chatelaine’ of this house, it was Margaret.

  I was eating a scone from the little plate I had balanced on my knee when I felt a change in the atmosphere. I looked at the doorway, and there he was—the sun child himself. He smiled and advanced into the room going first to Aunt Augusta to kiss her hand then to Aunt Jane and Susan. He kissed both of them on the cheek and begged his aunt’s pardon for not being there to welcome her and her daughter. The two of them glowed in his reflected light.

  He hadn’t even looked at me before Aunt Augusta said, “I hope you don’t intend to join us with all the dirt of the road still on you, Camden.”

  The nerve of her, I thought. This is Leo’s house, not hers.

  Leo gave her his most beguiling smile. “I am very hungry, Aunt. If I promise to keep my dirt to myself may I stay?”

  Of course she smiled back. “I spoil you,” she said playfully, and handed him a cup of tea.

  He took his cup and a plate of fairy cakes and finally looked my way. I had been late and was seated alone on a small French sofa. He began to cross the floor in my direction.

  I watched as he approached me, effortlessly balancing his teacup and cake plate. He is truly an aristocrat, I thought. That beautiful ease is born from always having absolute certainty of oneself and one’s position in the world. I knew I should totally disapprove of him. And I didn’t. Now why was that?

  He stopped, looked at the plate in my lap and said, “It looks as you’ve taken all the scones.”

  He sat beside me and I said, “Have one.” He removed a scone from my plate and took a bite.

  The conversation picked up where it had left off. The dance Susan and I would be attending was at the assembly rooms in Marlton, the market town closest to Camden Hall and the one where the estate did most of its local business. Robert sat on Marlton’s town committee along with the local squire, pastor, and gentlemen of the more established local families. It was the perfect place for us to attend an assembly room dance.

  The “genteel” and “presentable” young men we would meet sounded like dead bores to me, but I smiled and agreed. My plan for this English visit was the same as always—agree to everything until my six months was over, then collect my money and go home.

  Aunt Augusta concluded her remarks that Leo had interrupted. “I am sorry I cannot attend myself, but Leo knows what a torture it is for me to sit in a moving carriage.”

  These words cheered me enormously. I had expected the old harridan to be there watching me like a hawk. I knew she had lumbago, but if it was keeping her from monitoring me at the dance it must be more serious than I realized. I felt a twinge of guilt that I hadn’t taken her pain seriously.

  Leo asked Aunt Jane about her husband and then he asked Susan if she would be going to London for the remainder of the Season.

  “I hope so,” she answered, glancing at her mother. “That is our plan at the moment.”

  “I have to find a house to rent,” Aunt Jane explained. “We have been forced to miss the opening of the Season because of our mourning period, and it seems as if all the decently priced houses have been taken. I can’t possibly launch Susan from a house outside Mayfair. It would look as if I were skimping on money.”

  “But you are skimping on money, Mother,” Susan said. “You keep telling me how important it is to keep expenses down.”

  Aunt Jane flushed and Leo said to her, “Stay in Sommer House for the rest of the Season. It has a big ballroom that hasn’t been used in years. Throw a ball to introduce Susan to society. She’ll make a splash if you do that, Aunt Jane.”

  Susan’s face lit like a candle. Silence from Aunt Jane.

  “There’s plenty of room for us all in the house if I should want to come to London myself,” Leo said, sensing Aunt Jane’s resistance. “Please don’t concern yourself with that.”

  Susan, hands clasped to her breast, said, “Oh Leo, thank you!”

  Aunt Jane said, “Leo, I have no plans to hold a ball for Susan. It would be too great a cost. But I thank you for your generous offer. I will find something I’m sure.”

  Leo stole another scone off my plate. “I’ll cover the costs of Susan’s come-out.” He took a bite of my last scone. “It will be my pleasure. She’s a great girl.”

  Susan grabbed her mother’s arm and looked pleadingly into her face.

  Aunt Jane went from being slightly flushed to being bright red.

  I knew from Aunt Augusta that Aunt Jane had married a man who was beneath her own status as the daughter of an earl. Sir Henry Repton was a mere baronet and the local squire of his parish in Circencester. Baronets’ daughters did not have titles, so Susan was simply Miss Susan Repton.

  Aunt Augusta’s nose was quivering, never a good sign. She said, in the voice she
uses when she thinks she is getting the last word, “That is very generous of you, Camden, but I’m sure Sir Henry would rather provide for his daughter.”

  “Nonsense,” Leo replied amiably. “Alex will probably say that I have more money than I know what to do with and I might as well spend some of it on his family.”

  Susan giggled and Aunt Jane tried to smother a smile. Both reactions told me that Leo had hit on the exact words that Sir Alexander Repton would likely say when his wife told him about Leo’s offer.

  By the time tea was finished it was all but settled that Aunt Jane and Susan would occupy Leo’s magnificent London mansion so Susan could make her debut.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The upcoming Marlton ball was the topic of conversation at dinner a few days later. It was not a topic that interested me greatly, but it was better than the overcooked lamb on my plate, so I paid attention. A problem had come up; Roger wished to come with us, and Leo did not want him to.

  “What the devil do you want with a bunch of local misses?” he asked. “The squire’s daughter, the parson’s daughter, the local farmers’ daughters. They can have no interest for an experienced man like you.”

  I studiously refrained from looking at Margaret when Leo said the words ‘the parson’s daughter.’

  Roger was being stubborn. “Isabel will be there,” he said, giving me a look that just missed being a leer. “And my cousin Susan too.” Susan was next to find herself the target of the objectionable look. She turned very red and Roger laughed.

  I was usually polite to Roger when we were with the rest of the family, but I was annoyed that he had made Susan uncomfortable and spoke before Leo could reply. “We are going in the coach and there is no room for you, Roger.”

  “I’ll go with Margaret and Robert.”

  Leo said dismissively, “Robert is taking the curricle. There is no room for you there either.”

  “Then I’ll ride,” Roger persisted.

  “I will send word to the stable that you are not to be given a horse.” Leo didn’t even sound annoyed. He had spoken and that was the end of it.

  It was Roger’s turn to flush. “You can’t treat me like a child, Leo.”

  Leo held his cousin’s eyes. “This is my house and while you are living here you will do as I say.” His voice was soft, but it made me shiver.

  “Fine.” Roger pushed his chair back and stood. “I think I’ll go to the tavern in town for my dinner. At least I’m welcome there.”

  “Do as you choose,” Leo returned.

  After Roger had stalked out Aunt Augusta said, “I don’t know why you allow him to live here, Leo. He is bad ton. He always has been, and he always will be.”

  “He’s here because he has nowhere else to go,” Leo said tiredly, too generous to point out that the same situation applied to his aunt. “Let’s not discuss Roger at the dinner table, Aunt. It’s too depressing.”

  Aunt Augusta agreed, and the subject turned to dancing, and so to me. Did I know how to dance? Of course I knew how to dance. We loved to dance in France. Did I know the sort of dances that were performed in English ballrooms? Of course I didn’t. I had never been in an English ballroom.

  Susan, Aunt Jane, Margaret and Robert all immediately volunteered to help teach me, and after dinner we retired to the music room, which boasted a pianoforte along with various other instruments. Mother offered to play for us, and Robert volunteered himself and Margaret to demonstrate the steps.

  The minuet, originally a French dance, was slow and stately as well as easy and boring. As almost all balls opened and closed with a minuet, I needed to learn it. It was not very complicated, and I quickly realized that I just had to follow the lead of the people around me. The quadrille was much livelier. Mother told me it had evolved from country dancing, and country dancing was what I knew. The cotillion was also energetic and fun. It was supposed to be performed by four couples, but we had only three: Margaret and Robert, Mother and Aunt Jane, Susan and me, and Leo with an imaginary woman. Leo was so funny, bowing and gesturing to his imaginary partner, that he had us all laughing.

  When we finished the last cotillion, and it was almost time for tea again, Susan said, “What about the waltz? Mama says they do the waltz all over England now, even at local assembly dances.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Aunt Augusta declared. “That dance came from Vienna!” She uttered the word Vienna as if it were a synonym of Hell. “I can’t believe that decent English gentlemen let their unmarried daughters dance the waltz!”

  “My dear aunt, they dance it at Almack’s all the time,” Aunt Jane said with amusement. “I made certain Susan learned it. Nothing could be more embarrassing to a young girl than to be asked to dance and to have to refuse because she doesn’t know how.”

  “They dance it at Almack’s?” Aunt Augusta’s chin was quivering. “Are you quite certain, Jane?”

  “Quite certain, Aunt.”

  “Why do you object to it, Aunt Augusta?” I asked curiously.

  “Because the man holds his partner in his arms and they dance together. As one.” She stood up from her chair and said, “If you young people will excuse me, I am going to my bed. I find I do not wish to behold such indecency in my own house.”

  We all watched as she walked out. I could tell from the way she held herself that her back was paining her. I surprised myself by finding something gallant in the way the old lady stuck by her standards.

  Aunt Jane said, “Since when has the hall become Aunt Augusta’s house? I thought it belonged to you, Leo.”

  “It’s her home,” Leo said. “It has always been her home and it will continue to be her home until she dies. That’s what she means when she calls it ‘her house.’ She’s lived here longer than I have.”

  How kind Leo is, I thought. He’s never treated her like a pensioner. He respects her rightful place in the family order. He allows her the dignity of belonging.

  I felt ashamed of always being so irritated with an old lady who lived with pain. Maman and Papa would be ashamed of me. I vowed to be more patient and understanding the next time Aunt Augusta corrected me.

  Mother was now at the piano and Robert and Margaret were standing on the open floor. Both their right hands were clasped and held aloft. Margaret’s hand was on Robert’s shoulder and Robert’s hand was on his wife’s waist. They were standing close but not touching. Mother began to play.

  I watched as the two of them circled the floor in time to the music. They were looking into each other’s eyes, and one could see the love they shared shining there. It was lovely.

  Margaret began to count out the three-step timing for me and I watched her feet carefully. When Mother stopped playing Margaret said, “Come and dance with Robert, Isabel. He’s a better dancer than Leo.”

  Robert and I danced. He counted steps, and, after I stepped on his toes a few times, I began to get the rhythm. He twirled me around a corner, and I went with him. He looked down at me and laughed. “Brava, Isabel! You’re a quick study.”

  Susan said, “She certainly is. It took me hours before I could follow without stepping all over my partner.”

  Leo stood up. “Come along, Susan. Let’s you and I join them.”

  Susan jumped up, put her hand into Leo’s and they joined us on the floor. Mother played for five more minutes and then ended with a flourish. We all looked at each other and laughed. Mother said practically, “I would suggest that either Robert or Leo ask Isabel to dance if there is a waltz. I don’t know if she’ll manage to keep her feet to herself in the crowd of a ballroom.”

  Dancing with Robert had been fine. He had held me lightly and steered me with confidence. I hoped very much he would be the one to waltz with me if the dance should be played. The thought of waltzing with Leo made me nervous.

  *

  The dance at the Marlton Assembly Rooms was not unlike dances I had attended in our village in France. The clothing of both men and women was more expensive than what was worn by t
he farmers at home, but everyone was in high spirits and the dance floor was crowded. When our party was first announced, the entire room fell silent and stared. I knew they stared because they were astonished to see such highborn aristocrats at their little dance, but they were also staring at me. Apparently everyone within a hundred miles of Camden House had heard of my “return.”

  As Susan and I stood beside our respective mothers waiting for someone to ask us to dance, Robert came up with two young men on either side of him. It transpired they were the two middle sons of a well-off gentleman farmer and they would like to dance with us. Susan and I smiled and graciously accepted.

  After the ice had been broken, we danced every dance. It was fun. The young men were shy, and in trying to put them at their ease I lost my own shyness. I checked on Leo periodically, and he and Robert were always deep in conversation with one of the few older men who were in attendance. Margaret, easily the most beautiful woman in the room, had decided not to dance and spent most of the evening in conversation with a woman I later found out was her cousin.

  There were no waltzes, thank God. Not that Leo would have asked me. I don’t think he looked at me once the entire evening, which I thought was unfeeling of him. He was the one who wanted me to “meet people.” He might have bothered to introduce me to some of the people with whom he was having such deep conversations.

  Susan was even more popular than I, and she was tired by the time we got back into the carriage to return home. She fell asleep on Aunt Jane’s shoulder, and Aunt Jane herself looked as if she was dozing. Leo and I might have been alone in the darkened carriage.

  When he finally spoke it was to say, “I didn’t want to tell you before the dance, but your brother is coming to visit tomorrow. He is refusing to believe you are his lost sister, and I want him to see for himself how identical you are to the portrait of our great-grandmother.”

  His voice sounded soft and intimate in the privacy of the enclosed coach. All I wanted at the moment was to cuddle up to him and fall asleep on his shoulder, as I often used to do with Papa on late drives home. When I realized I was leaning toward him, I straightened my spine in horror. Leo was not my father. I wasn’t precisely sure how I felt about him, but I knew my feelings were not those of a daughter.